The sun rose slowly over Green Cloud Town, spilling golden light across the slate rooftops and twisting alleys. The morning market was alive with the shouts of merchants, the clatter of wooden carts, and the scent of incense mingling with the aroma of roasted grain. Among the bustling crowd, a thin figure moved quietly, head bowed and hood drawn.

His name was Lin Xuan.

Once, he had been a promising prodigy of his family, the Lin clan—admitted into the Outer Sect of Azure Sun Sect at a young age, lauded for his potential. Now, after three long years, he was nothing more than a laughingstock.

Three years of relentless cultivation, and still trapped at the first stage of Qi Refining.

In a sect where most disciples advanced steadily, some even skipping stages through talent or chance, Lin Xuan’s stagnation branded him with the cruelest epithet: waste.

“Look, isn’t that Lin Xuan?” a young disciple whispered with a smirk.

“The same one who couldn’t even reach the second stage? Pathetic.”

“Even the Lin family back in town must be embarrassed. What a disgrace to our sect.”

Lin Xuan heard every word, but his expression remained unchanged, calm to the point of imperceptibility. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms, yet his steps never faltered.

He had long been accustomed to ridicule, to sneers, to the quiet, piercing gazes that cut deeper than any blade. But beneath the surface of calm, a spark burned within him—a fire that refused to die.

He remembered the night he first stepped into the Azure Sun Sect.

The ancestral tablets of his family loomed above, cold and indifferent. He had sworn then, with a voice echoing through the hall, that he would rise, that he would bring glory to the Lin name, that he would never be a failure.

And now, that promise seemed to mock him.

Back in his small, dilapidated courtyard within the outer sect, Lin Xuan sat cross-legged on a thin straw mat. His eyes were closed, breathing even, while he circulated the limited spiritual energy in his body. Three years of stagnation had left him frustrated, but he refused to give up.

“Why?” he whispered to himself, voice low and rough.

“Why do others surge ahead while I remain shackled?”

The spiritual energy in his dantian stirred sluggishly, sluggish as stagnant water, refusing to flow no matter how he coaxed it. Every attempt felt like striking a solid wall, exhausting him without reward.

Then, suddenly—

A pulse, faint but undeniable, trembled from deep within his body.

Lin Xuan’s eyes snapped open.

For a brief moment, he felt a presence—not his own—deep inside him. Dark, heavy, almost alive. It was as if a heartbeat from some unknown origin throbbed in tandem with his own.

He froze, breath catching, and then the sensation disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Only silence remained.

Lin Xuan’s brow furrowed, and for the first time in years, a strange mix of fear and excitement coursed through him.

“Could it be…” he muttered, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Something dormant, powerful, and unknown rested within him. Dangerous, perhaps—but undeniably potent.

He closed his eyes again, letting his mind descend into focus, tracing the pulse’s remnants, sensing its rhythm.

Even in its faint echo, he could feel a subtle power, like embers beneath ash, waiting to ignite.

Days passed.

Lin Xuan continued his routine: meditation, Qi circulation, exercises, and enduring the endless derision of his peers.

Yet, unlike before, there was a quiet determination beneath his calm exterior. Every insult, every cold glance, only sharpened the edge of his resolve.

“Waste, failure, dead weight…” the voices haunted him, but he let them fuel him, molding each slight into a step forward.

During solitary training sessions, he experimented with every technique he had learned, feeling his body tremble with resistance, testing the limits of his meager spiritual energy. The faint pulse from within his core occasionally responded, subtle vibrations flowing through his veins, urging him, guiding him toward something he did not yet understand.

At night, when the courtyard was silent and the stars reflected off the stone paths, Lin Xuan often lay awake, staring at the sky.

Other disciples were out celebrating their breakthroughs, laughing and sharing victories, while he remained trapped in quiet failure. But the pulse whispered, urging him forward.

“This… this is my chance,” he whispered to himself.

“Perhaps I have been underestimated. Perhaps my time is not yet finished.”

He clenched his fists, feeling the strain in his arms, the ache in his chest, and the fire in his heart.

Lin Xuan knew that the path ahead would not be easy. The outer sect despised him, the inner sect may never accept him, and even his own body resisted progress.

Yet, in the deepest part of his being, he felt a surge of confidence.

“I may be a failure now… but not forever.”

A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, ruffling his thin robes. The candle flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Lin Xuan’s eyes glimmered with determination.

The pulse in his dantian stirred once more, faint, almost imperceptible, but undeniably alive. It was as if the very core of his being was waking.

Lin Xuan rose to his feet, looking toward the distant mountains beyond the sect, where ancient peaks pierced the clouds.

“Three years of mockery, three years of stagnation… that ends now,” he murmured.

“I will rise. I will survive. I will forge a path no one dares to walk.”

The courtyard was silent, but in that silence, Lin Xuan’s resolve echoed louder than any voice in the world.

The name of a failure would soon be buried beneath the roar of his awakening.

The first step of his journey had begun.